


Untitled (Fred/Christina, Christina breakdown)

by rsadelle



Category: Christina Aguilera (Musician), Music RPF, Pop Music RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-29
Updated: 2007-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christina has a bit of a breakdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled (Fred/Christina, Christina breakdown)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Fred/Christina. My old-school pop fandom pairing of choice. In this, Christina has a bit of a breakdown. I have no idea where it was supposed to go after this, but at least I finished the sex scenes.

The VMAs were rerunning, again, but she didn't care. She didn't even care that she'd been there. She'd asked Jorge for an evening of just watching TV and making out for her birthday. What they watched didn't really matter to her. Jorge'd whispered something about watching her move as much as he could and turned on the awards. By the time her performance was on, his hands were under her clothes and he was urging her to stroke him harder, faster.

She watched herself over his shoulder, the cool, rational part of her mind analyzing her performance. It was a good performance. Then Fred stepped onto the stage. She hadn't watched this before, had never seen the way she looked at him. Suddenly she was back there, on the stage, circling around Fred.

Her orgasm took her by surprise as she gasped and clutched at Jorge. She involuntarily tightened the hand around his cock, and he groaned as he came. He slumped back against the couch. She stared, unseeing, at the commercials for a few long moments until Jorge leaned forward and kissed her.

"I'm going to bed. You coming?"

"Yeah," she answered distractedly. She smiled up at him. "I'll be there in a minute." She kissed him. "Go to bed."

She stared at the TV screen for a while longer, then sighed and pushed the power button. She checked to make sure the doors were locked and turned out the lights, then went to join Jorge in bed.

Three hours later, she was still awake and staring at her ceiling. She crept out of bed and back down to the kitchen where she sat down at the table and picked up the phone.

"Do you know what time it is?" a voice demanded from the other end.

"I know, Brit. I'm sorry, but I needed to talk to someone."

"Why can't you have crises in the middle of the day like normal people?" Britney sighed. "Okay. Tell me what's wrong."

Christina bit her lip for a moment before speaking. "I was making out with Jorge today and, well, it was all cool. Hell, it was great."

"I don't see a problem here, Chris," Britney growled.

"I wasn't thinking about him."

"Fuck, Chrissy, everyone fantasizes."

"I was thinking about Fred."

Britney heaved a sigh. "Like I said," she said wearily, "everyone fantasizes. Look, Chrissy, don't be stupid. Forget about Fred. Jorge loves you. Go back to bed."

"Yeah, okay. I will. Thanks, Brit."

"You're welcome, but don't think you can call me in the middle of the night all the time."

"I won't."

"Good. Goodnight."

"Night, Brit." She hung up the phone and sat at the table for a few minutes longer before turning the lights out and making her way back to bed.

***

"Now, baby, I don't understand what the big deal is," Jorge said as they walked back into her hotel room.

"The big deal is that this was supposed to be a free day." Christina threw her purse down on a table.

"Honey, it'll take less than an hour, and it's MTV. This is really important for you."

"No, spending a day the way I want to is really important for me." Christina stalked across the room to stare out the window.

Jorge came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "Now, baby. don't be that way."

She shrugged out of his hold and turned around to face him. "Don't be what way, Jorge?" Her eyes narrowed. "Don't think about myself? I never fucking think about myself. I never do anything selfish. I do everything everyone else tells me to. I act the nice girl when I have to, and the slut when I have to do that." Christina's voice rose with every sentence. "I make everyone else happy. All I wanted was _one_ day. Just _one_ day to myself. I don't think that's such an unreasonable thing to ask."

"Now, Chrissy," Britney said from the open door, "you know that we all have to make sacrifices sometimes. Jorge only wants what's best for you."

Jorge stepped toward Christina. "She's right, sweetie. I only want what's best for you."

"Bullshit! You want what's best for you, and what's best for you is for me to make as many appearances as possible and talk about you as much as I can."

"You know that's not true," Britney said. "And stop yelling. We could hear you all the way down the hall." She looked at her boyfriend who nodded apologetically.

"I'm not going to stop yelling. Why should I? So I can be the sweet, demure pop diva? What if that's not what I want?"

"Of course that's what you want, angel," Jorge said soothingly, reaching out to her.

She pushed his arms away. "Don't touch me. You don't know what I want."

His face twisted with anger. "Well, if that's the way you feel--"

"It is," she put in.

"Then I guess I'll go out for a bit and let you calm down," he finished as if she'd never spoken. He grabbed a coat and opened the door.

"That was fast. I didn't even have time to knock," a voice drawled from the doorway.

Jorge only glared and pushed past him.

"Lover's spat, Aguilera?" Fred asked.

She turned on him. "This is all your fault. Everything would have been fine if it hadn't been for you," she yelled.

He only raised his eyebrows. "Now there's some misplaced aggression."

She continued yelling at him. "I wish I'd never met you. Everything would be better then."

Fred looked at her for a moment. "I only came by to say hi, but I guess I'll be going now."

Christina started to cry as the door shut behind him. She scrubbed her hands down her face. "I really messed things up, didn't I?" She looked up at Britney.

Britney put an arm around her. "Of course you didn't, Chrissy. Jorge knows you were just angry. He'll come back in a little while and everything will be okay."

Christina looked at her disbelievingly. "I don't care about that. I meant Fred."

Britney set her mouth in a tight line. "Forget about Fred. He's no good."

"Fuck you," Christina snarled. "You don't know anything about him."

Britney stood up and stared down at Christina. "Fine," she snapped. "If you want to ruin your life with that good for nothing loser, then I won't stand in your way. Come on, Justin, we're leaving." She grabbed Justin's hand and dragged him out with her, slamming the door behind her.

Christina slumped on the couch and started to cry. Some time later, she pulled her head up from the arm of the couch to find Fred squatting next to her.

"Well, Aguilera, that was quite a performance."

"Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Call me by my last name."

He grinned at her. "Because no one else does." He turned serious. "You sound like shit. Screaming isn't good for your voice." He got up and went to the minibar, then came back with a bottle of orange juice. "Here. Drink this."

She twisted off the cap and sipped the juice.

"Want to tell me what you did to put Miss Brit herself into such a huff?"

Christina looked down at the juice, toying idly with the cap. "I was making out with Jorge last week, but I wasn't thinking about him."

"Everyone fantasizes."

A glint of true amusement flickered in her eyes. "That's what she said." She looked back down at her hands again. "I was thinking about you."

"So that's why it's all my fault?"

She nodded. "We had a fight about it." She blinked back the beginning of tears. "Things kind of went downhill from there." She reached up and wiped at her eyes.

Fred cupped her cheek and kissed her. "Drink your juice," he said before she could react.

She watched as he wandered around the room, stopping in front of the window to watch the sun set. When it was dark, he shut the curtains and came back to sit on the coffee table again.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"Well, Aguilera, I figure someone's gotta take care of you." He took the empty juice bottle from her and frowned. "Your voice really sounds awful."

She just shrugged.

He set the bottle down on the table and leaned forward. "Does your throat hurt?"

"A little." She shrugged away from his touch on her cheek. "I'll be fine."

He frowned again. "You shouldn't take that so lightly."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"You love to sing, Aguilera. Don't mess with that."

She blinked back sudden tears.

"Hey, I didn't mean to upset you."

She shook her head. "You get it. Why can't anyone else understand that?"

"Not everyone is like us."

"She's wrong," Christina said. "You're not a loser." She leaned forward and kissed him.

He gripped her arms. "Thanks, Aguilera," he said wryly. He stopped talking when she kissed him again.

She pulled at the bottom of his t-shirt and broke their kiss to pull it up and over his head. When she went for the zipper on his pants, he tugged at her pants, pushing her up off the couch as he slid them down her legs. She yanked her shirt off and pulled him back down to her. He pushed his own pants down and slid into her, pushing her back down onto the couch. He undid her bra and slipped the straps off her shoulders, brushing his fingers along the side of her breasts.

The sex was exactly what she expected from Fred: rough--he pounded into her, not that she was complaining--but also sweet--he kissed her over and over and made sure she came before he did.

She lay there, sweating and clinging to him for a few long moments before he stood up and pulled her up as well.

"Come on, Aguilera, let's get you into bed. You could use some sleep." He tucked her into bed and kissed her cheek. "I have a few calls to make, then I'll be back."

He left the door to the bedroom partially open, and she could hear the beginning of his conversation. "Hey, Carson, it's Fred. Guess where I am?" He laughed and then, "Off the record." It figured that he'd brag, but then, she thought, if she had to be someone's trophy whore, she might as well be Fred's. At least he made sure she came.

She half-woke to the sound of Fred's voice. "Time to rise and shine, Aguilera." She snuggled down into the covers and ignored him. "I've got coffee." The smell of the coffee was enough to make her open her eyes, and she grabbed at it. "Uh-uh. Not until you get up." She made a face at him and rolled over. He swept the curtains open and pulled the covers away from her face. "Get up."

She sat up and glared at him. "Can I have the coffee now?"

He shook his head and held the cup out of her reach. "Get up and get dressed. Then you can have the coffee. Here." He handed her a bundle of cloth. "You don't have to wear real clothes; those'll do." He continued speaking as she unfolded the pajamas and pulled the top over her head. "The dumb fucks at your record company are good for something. There's a doctor coming to take a look at your throat in about half an hour." Once she pulled the pajama bottoms up over her hips, he handed her the coffee. She sipped at it gratefully and followed him out to the main room. "You hungry?"

She shook her head and flopped onto the couch, grabbing the remote. She idly flipped channels until Fred answered a knock at the door and let the doctor in.

"Hey there, Christina." He sat down next to her, putting his briefcase on the coffee table. "Fred says you're having a little trouble with your throat."

She shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

He didn't quite wince. "You don't sound like you feel very good," he said as he snapped open his briefcase. "Let's just take a look." Christina watched Fred sit on the arm of the couch behind the doctor while he looked at her throat. "Well," he said when he'd completed his examination, "you taxed it, but nothing too serious." He looked over his glasses at her. "Screaming and sobbing aren't good for your throat," he said seriously. "I want you to rest your voice for a couple of days. Some light singing's okay, but don't do anything too stressful." He glanced at Fred. "I'll let Irving know that you shouldn't do anything for a week or so. Orange juice and tea with honey ought to be make you feel better." He put a fatherly hand on her knee. "Don't do anything else to further hurt yourself."

"I won't." She slumped back against the couch and grabbed the remote while Dr. Stevens put things back into his briefcase. She focused on the TV while he consulted with Fred before leaving.

Fred closed the door behind the doctor and sat down next to Christina. They watched in silence for a long hour. Christina was surprised by the knock on the door, but Fred seemed to be expecting it. He glanced through the peephole, then opened the door and let Carson in.

"Hey, man." Fred hugged Carson and took the bag he was carrying. "Thanks. Come on in."

"You're welcome." Carson wandered over to the couch while Fred went to put the bag in the bedroom. "Hi, Christina. Whatcha watching?"

She ignored him.

"She's not being very chatty," Fred said, coming out of the bedroom. "Welcome to Christina Aguilera's breakdown."

Christina glared at him.

"Calm down, Aguilera. It's off the record." He shot a look at Carson, who held his hands up in a gesture of innocence. "Wes had some thing with one of his other projects, so I had Carson bring me some stuff," Fred explained to her.

Christina shot him a reproving look. "Whatever." She turned back to the TV.

Carson raised his eyebrows as Fred led him to the suite's table. "Seriously, man, she okay?"

Fred shook his head. "Probably not."

Carson frowned. "Shouldn't you do something about that?"

Fred watched Christina for a long moment. She didn't move. "It'll work itself out. She'll work it out." He looked back to Carson and smiled. "Enough of that shit, tell me what's up in the world of music."

***

"Let me know when you're hungry."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving the screen. After several episodes of cancelled sitcoms, she stood, dropping the remote onto the couch. She stood in front of Fred until he noticed her and took off his headphones. "I'm hungry."

He set his magazine down on the table and picked up the room service menu. "What do you want?"

She shrugged. "I don't care."

"Anything you don't eat?"

"No."

Fred nodded and scanned the menu. Christina went back to the couch while he ordered their food. When the food--cheeseburgers, french fries and milkshakes--arrived, Fred turned off the TV and led Christina to the table. They ate in near silence. Christina mopped up the last of her ketchup with the last fry. Fred reached out and swiped at a bit of ketchup on the edge of her lips, then licked it off of his thumb.

She watched his movements carefully, then got up and walked around the table. Fred opened his arms to her and let her sit down on his lap. She leaned down and kissed him.

This time, the sex was softer, slower, lazier. Fred let her lean over him and kiss him over and over again. She controlled the pace of it, but he put his hands on her hips and helped her move. When they were done, she stayed on his lap, slumped over him, while he ran his hands up and down her back.

He pressed his lips to her shoulder. "Feeling better?"

She nodded and pulled herself up off of his lap. She pulled her pajamas back on and wandered back to the couch.

Fred rubbed his hand over his chin, then got up and left the room. When he came back, Christina glanced up at him. She watched him walk across the room, gather together their lunch dishes and put them outside. He came back across the room and stopped in front of her. He took the remote from the coffee table and switched off the TV.

"I was watching that," Christina protested mildly.

Fred shook his head. "No you weren't. You were watching me." He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her. "And you need a shower."

She frowned at him. "I want to watch TV."

"Too bad. Time for a shower for you." When Christina didn't move, he just shrugged and picked her up. She was too surprised to do anything other than concentrate on not falling. Fred carried her through the bedroom and into the bathroom. He set her down in the tub and turned on the water. She was suddenly, shockingly cold. He twisted the taps and it was just as suddenly, just as shockingly warm. "You can come out when you're clean and dry," he said as she spluttered under the water.

He left the door slightly open and left her alone. She cried for a while, letting her tears mix with the water, before she stripped off her pajamas and slowly started getting clean.

When she was done, she wrapped a towel around herself and went into the bedroom to find Fred sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed. He looked like he'd been sitting there a while. "I came out to get something to wear. Is that okay?"

Fred grinned at her. "Yeah, that's okay."

She went to the dresser and opened a drawer, conscious of his eyes on her. She looked, unseeing, at the contents of a drawer for a moment before focussing on them. She pulled out one of Fred's larger shirts and pulled it over her head, tossing her towel onto the bed.

"Do I pass muster?" she asked him.

He laughed. "Not for going out, but I don't mind it."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Does that mean I can go back to watching TV?"

Fred set down his magazine. "Come here."

She walked to the edge of the bed in front of him.

He patted the bed. "Sit with me."

She put one knee on the bed. "Make room for me."

"Come here." He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her up onto the bed, turning her around and pulling her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and put his hands on her stomach. "Why do you want to watch TV, Aguilera? We're in New York; there are a million and one things you could do."

She shrugged. "I just do."

He rubbed his hands over her stomach and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "What's the real reason?"

She leaned back against him. "I never have time to watch TV. I always have a million and one things to do."

He pressed his cheek against hers. "That's understandable." He let go of her. "You can go watch if you want."

She tipped her head back onto his shoulder. "Now I want to stay here."

He chuckled and put his arms back around her. "Okay." They sat there, Fred rocking her gently every once in a while, for a very long time, long past the setting of the sun.

She turned her head to rest her cheek against his shoulder. "This isn't as fun as I thought it would be."

"What isn't? Hanging with me?"

A gentle smile curved her lips. "Having a nervous breakdown. I thought it would be fun, and I could have some time off."

He laughed. "What, you planned this?"

She shook her head. "No, but I saw it coming." She was silent for a moment. "Things have been bad for a while."

She could almost feel his wince. "And I probably only made things worse."

"No, not really." She met his eyes. "I loved being on stage with you. It made me feel so alive. It made it fun again for just a few minutes." She looked back down, toying with the soft cotton that covered only the top of her thighs. "It showed me how shitty the rest of my life is." She let his soft touches comfort her. "I didn't think about it, though, until I saw us on TV again. Jorge and I were fooling around, and I wasn't all that into it until I saw you and me." She shivered. "I came so hard, and Jorge didn't even seem to notice. It freaked me out, and I guess I realized that things were fucked up." She turned her face into Fred's shoulder. "I called Britney because I thought she'd understand."

Fred stroked her back. "I don't think she understands much."

"No. Not Brit." Her laugh held a tinge of hysteria. "She's the perfect pop princess and the rest of us are just imitations."

Fred's arms tightened around her. "You're worth ten of her."

She pushed herself up off the bed and paced in front of him. "I don't want to be a pop princess anymore. I don't want the perfect boyfriend. I don't want the safe music. I fucking _loved_ being on stage with you. I've come harder in the last day and half with you than I ever have with Jorge. I want my own fucking life."

"You're preaching to the choir, Aguilera."

She curled back into his arms. "So how the fuck do I get my own life?"

Fred kissed her hair and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Having a breakdown is a good start. You got a little time to yourself."

"And time with you."

He laughed quietly. "Yeah. Time with me. I don't know how much that's worth, but you've got it."

She leaned back against him, tipping her head onto his shoulder. "It's what I want."

"Then I guess it's worth something."

"It's worth a lot." She pulled his head down and kissed him. "I want to be here." She twisted around and pushed him down to the bed. "I want to be with you." She lay down on top of him and kissed him hard. "I want you." Fred slipped his hands under the edge of her t-shirt.

"You're going to wear me out," Fred said when they were just kissing softly again.

Christina smiled down at him. "The great Fred Durst? I'm not that good."

Fred laughed and stroked his hand down her back. "You are that good." His stomach grumbled and he kissed her again, then rolled them over so she wasn't pinning him down anymore. "Room service good for dinner?"

She nodded. "Get me a steak."

"You're going to have to do stuff on your own," he reminded her.

She lolled against the bed. "Why bother when I've got you to do it for me?"

Fred laughed and picked up the phone to call room service. When he hung it up, he leaned over and kissed Christina again.


End file.
